Dorian Stark
Dorian Stark was born into Exy greatness, but he never quite felt like he belonged to it. The son of a Pittsburgh legend, he was expected to follow in his father’s footsteps, carrying the weight of a legacy he never asked for. His talent was undeniable—quick reflexes, a sharp mind, and the kind of composure under pressure that made him a natural goalkeeper. But while his teammates saw a captain, a leader, a player destined for the pros, Dorian saw something else in himself. A historian. A scholar. A guy who loved books and the past more than he loved the future people had planned for him. Despite the expectations, Dorian was good at playing the part. He fit into the role of Ashford’s golden boy with practiced ease—calm under pressure, easy to get along with, the kind of guy who could make a post-game speech sound effortless. But beneath the steady hands and composed demeanor, he struggled. With the pressure. With the expectations. With the constant reminder that no matter how well he played, it might never be enough—not for his father, not for the scouts, not for himself.